


Bastion of Illusions

by green_carnation_product



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Delusions, Ed is more mentally disturbed than he is in the series, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Games, Unreliable Narrator, if this is even possible, this fic is confusing on purpose, you'll figure out what is going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_carnation_product/pseuds/green_carnation_product
Summary: Edward has a way of telling when Oswald he sees is not the real one: it's all about his voice and face expression.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	Bastion of Illusions

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea for a while now :) I know the story feels a bit rushed. I might make it into a full-fledged one at some point.

First time this happened was on the night after Oswald — the real Oswald — had let him out of Arkham. The night, when the mattress in his lavishly decorated room felt unnaturally soft — so soft Ed felt as if he was placed to sleep in a massive jar of feathers — and when the quietness of the surrounding felt oddly ominous. He didn't miss Arkham, of course he did not, not for a single second. Rather his body could not adapt to the drastic changes of the environment. 

Maybe the fact he had never lived in places like this one until that very day was another reason for his disorientation. His parents' house was unpleasant due to people living in it and perfectly normal in every other possible aspect; his old apartment was truly his — comfortable, dim and safe. But this place was way beyond comfortable, normal or safe. It was beautiful and big and gracious to the point of being utterly surreal. Ed's mind was racing in excitement, perhaps overexcitement even — and yet (or maybe for exactly that reason) there was uneasiness that felt heavily on his chest. The softness, the gentle quietude, the bountiful décor, the calming scent of woods and chamomile — sweet, applelike, and herbaceous odour — all of it somehow gave him a sense of derealization. He might be hallucinating all of it, he thought. 

And back then, that terrified him all of a sudden and made him feel infinitely vulnerable. 

Most of the time he went through life ignoring how unreliable his own mind was but in that very moment he couldn't. He covered his ears with the palm of his hands and shut his eyes and went completely still and stayed like that, imagining what could have been happening in reality as he was laying here, surrounded by illusionary luxurious serenity. Maybe he was drugged. Maybe he fell unconscious because of malnutrition. Maybe he was slobbing on the old bald mattress in his cell. 

Ed fell asleep at some point but dreams he saw were not any less disturbing. His parents were knocking on the windows of the manor, their lips stretched out in fake smiles. In a second or two the scenery changed and now Arkham's staff was playing chess with him, round after round, always winning despite bad tactics and then, as a punishment, drowning him in a bath filled with mud that looked like warm water on the first sight.

He woke up in the middle of the night, groaning and shaking, his forehead covered in sweat. With his backsight he saw a figure by his bed. He let out a breath. Oswald. Oswald was sitting beside him, his fingertips barely touching the expensive bedcover. Looking concerned, brows frowned and eyes shining, Oswald seemed way younger than usual. Ed realized that something else was different about him. It was Oswald's expression, he thought — soft, kind, like everything surrounding him in this bastion of delusions and fantasies. Too perfect. Suspicions grew fast. How likely was it that Oswald would be worried for him and sit beside him and look like he cares? Oswald was not the type to worry for people around him. That was what made his so strong.

Ed stayed still and waited. 

What looked to be Oswald, broke the silence. It said something Ed couldn't quite grasp due to noise in his ears and Ed replied what felt suitable in the context: I am good, Oswald. I am fine. This is just a nightmare. You don't need to be here. Fake Oswald said something in a soothing voice, gave him a nod and left him to be. 

After he had left Ed managed to fall into dreamless sleep. Perhaps illusions his mind was able to create were not exclusively torturous.

***

Oswald never did mention that night. He has never mentioned other nights he came into Ed's room and calmed him down. This was all the proof Ed needed. At that point it was easy to tell the difference. At night he saw fake Oswald, a product of his restless mind. In the course of the day he saw the real one. He didn't mind both. As far as the real one knew nothing about the fake one, he was good with the unnaturally gentle voice of his and things they shared and occasional touches. Usually he could not touch his hallucinations but perhaps his mind got adapted and found a way to create something different. This hallucination was perfectly safe unlike most he had seen beforehand. As if it was created to make him feel better. To make him feel sane. 

***

Then everything went blurry. The line started to fade. At night and during the day Oswald began to act equally odd and out of character. It was a bit scary and confusing at first but Ed could work with it. All he had to do is to remember who real Oswald was, remember not to let his guards down before sunset. He thought he could manage until the moment when nothing made sense anymore.

Oswald was in love with him or so they told him. 

Isabella was too good to be true, maybe, but if he accepted everything else in his life as real — apart from the nighttime Oswald maybe — why bother to think she was an illusion? Her death was real for sure and Oswald admitted he killed her. That sounded like him, like real him. It grounded Ed. It made more sense than Oswald's behaviour before and after that. Was it the real Oswald who was ready to sacrifice his life for Ed's? Ed wasn't sure. He had no way of knowing. 

Ed had to let Oswald go in order to get rid of the confusion. 

It helped.

Oswald induced by amphetamine was definitely not real and Ed knew it. It was soothing. 

New Oswald was way different from the nighttime Oswald he saw previously and only slightly different from what he assumed was the real Oswald. Significantly, Ed could not touch this version. Because he did not want to, he hoped. 

***

Then Oswald came back. And he was oh so real. Angry, full of revenge. Not remembering anything about Ed's nightmares (or clearly he would have mentioned them to hurt Ed). It meant Ed managed to differentiate well enough. It meant the nighttime Oswald was illusionary indeed. 

All for sudden Ed felt safe and grounded. All felt so very real. 

He knew the man in front of him and he was ready for the role of his enemy.


End file.
